


Ready

by Cultivation



Series: Ashes [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Angst, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Confrontations, Dead Sheev Palpatine, Death Wish, Dialogue Heavy, Drabble, Enemies to Friends, Hurt, Hurt Ahsoka Tano, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Bashing (Star Wars), Jedi Code (Star Wars), Jedi Code Bashing (Star Wars), Jedi Council Bashing (Star Wars), Jedi Temple (Star Wars), M/M, Mental Instability, Mentioned Anakin Skywalker, Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Mentioned Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Protective Ahsoka Tano, Sequel, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Are Hard, The Force, The Light Side of the Force (Star Wars), but VERY mild and not very deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cultivation/pseuds/Cultivation
Summary: After another meeting with Maul, Obi-Wan returns to the temple to find Ahsoka waiting for him. She wants answers and he isn’t sure what to tell her— or if he should tell her anything at all.Unsurprisingly, it goes poorly.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Series: Ashes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064831
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	Ready

**Author's Note:**

> Just a forewarning... read the first fic or this will make no sense. 
> 
> As always, thanks to [skittykitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty) for beating!

Quiet and trembling, his footsteps follow patterned disappointment. Obi-Wan doesn’t enjoy going back to the temple— his only home. He isn’t ready to admit to anyone, let alone himself, where he’d rather be; it simply doesn’t feel right. Jedi, who used to hold him in such high regard, look at him with pity and invasive curiosity. Anakin’s loss follows his every step. The grief seeps into his bones and weighs him down as if, at any moment, he may collapse. If he were to admit something, visiting Maul does seem to quell that feeling. The more time he spends with him, the longer he can maintain visible stability. It’s becoming an addictive habit— one he wishes he could put an end to.

Obi-Wan can feel her presence in the Force before he arrives at his quarters. 

Ahsoka shines so brightly, she might as well blind him. There was once a time where he could emulate that light. But that was when Anakin was alive, at his side every moment of the day, giving him something to maintain his connection to the Force and keep on fighting. His commitment and unwavering loyalty gave Obi-Wan something to attach himself to, a pillar of strength in the storm. He is still unsure what it means to be without him; all he knows is the bottomless pit he falls into when reminded of Anakin. Maul hasn’t filled that void exactly. He simply provides the service of effective distraction (through means Obi-Wan isn’t sure of either) and, for now, that is all he should provide. 

She stands outside his quarters, just as expected, whilst other Jedi stare at her. He wonders if such gazes pierce her as they do to him. What would Ahsoka think of Obi-Wan if she knew what he was up to? It’s a question he cannot possibly answer nor does he desire to. Swallowing harshly, he works up the courage to approach her. At this distance, her features are vague and indistinct against the dull glow of light filtering in from the grand windows. The temple is alive with golden hues, movement, hushed discussions, and Jedi robes rustling. In the light, particles of dust are suspended in the air, floating aimlessly. Briefly, Obi-Wan ponders how it might feel to be amongst the Force itself. Surely, it’d be more pleasant than this. His feet find the will to move forward and he does without a second to reconsider.

“Master?” Her voice isn’t as he remembers it. Somehow, she has already matured from the last time he saw her. Obi-Wan shouldn’t be surprised considering the circumstances. He reckons leaving the Council and losing Anakin could age someone; it has aged him, he is sure. Flickers of gray have emerged in his beard and the bags beneath his eyes have emboldened. Obi-Wan would be ignorant to deny it. Her face remains youthful as she turns to acknowledge him. Her montrals and lekku have grown just a bit longer and her body is more muscular. She is the picturesque Jedi and yet, she does not have the title— not anymore. Her expression is calm but unsettled, as if his presence has not given her the peace she had hoped for. “Master Kenobi?”

“Ahsoka,” he greets warily. “It is… nice to see you.” 

“It is nice to see you too, Obi-Wan.” The smile doesn’t reach her eyes and he feels the encroaching Jedi surround them.

“I think it’s best we go inside, don’t you think?” His tone is unintentionally circumspect. Ahsoka notices and latches onto it.

“Sure, Master.” Her eyes scan their surroundings with caution. She, like her Master, has never been good with masking her intentions. Ahsoka wears her intent on her sleeves, never hiding what she thinks or why she thinks it. Obi-Wan isn’t necessarily privy to the concept but, he has always been adaptable to difficult situations. Following the Council’s bidding is something he always held strong in his mind as the ultimate act of lawfulness and peace. Recently, he has drifted from that mindset into a quiet (and rather pitiful) rebellion. Maul doesn’t hesitate from bashing his Order and the Jedi way every now and then but, for the most part, they don’t discuss anything in positives or negatives. He takes things as they are and Obi-Wan does the same. He wonders whether Ahsoka would understand the complexities of this— of the purpose of their increasingly frequent meetings. Considering how alike she is to Anakin, probably not.

Obi-Wan enters his quarters and Ahsoka follows. Inside, the light is dim, shining through in thin slivers. Her eyes scan his untouched bed and the dust marking almost every surface. He cannot say he has spent much time here. When he does, he often pictures Anakin’s shadow presiding in the doorway or hears faint rumbles of his laughter echoing from the past. It’s an unpleasant experience, to say the least, and he does all that he can to avoid it at any cost. Confrontation isn’t his strong suit as it was in the war. His courage has been consumed by cowardice, spurred on by the heavy hollowness in his head and chest. What he wouldn’t do to have the courage to tell Ahsoka just what he has been doing and why. But, he cannot do that. As much as he’d like to tell her and explain it to her, Obi-Wan would have to face the uncomfortable truth in order to do so; he doesn’t really know what he is doing at all.

“Obi-Wan?” she asks. “I’ve been trying to holo you all day. Where have you been?” She isn’t angry per se but her face is knit with an unsavory concern, the kind he wishes desperately to avoid. Of everyone he knows, it would be Ahsoka who’d understand this void— this leech, sucking the life from him. Yet, he knows that isn’t exactly true. She does not feel as purposeless without Anakin. Her bright presence in the Force communicates that without words or exchanges. Ahsoka can live without him. Obi-Wan isn’t so sure he can say the same for himself. He licks his lips, finding the skin chapped.

“I apologize. I was… preoccupied with another engagement.”

“No one in the Temple knew where you were. I even asked the Council for you.”

“Well… that was kind of you, Ahsoka, but there is no need. I am quite alright.” Obi-Wan sits down idly on the ground, legs crossed. Ahsoka doesn’t speak. She watches him with a glazed-over expression; it is the face she makes when deep in thought. He refrains from grimacing.

“I’m… concerned about you, Master,” she begins. “I sensed when you disconnected with the Force. It was like nothing I have ever felt before. Such grief… such pain. I understood why you cut yourself off. Everyone did… but now that you have returned to the Force… you still carry that pain. I want to know why.” Obi-Wan was afraid of this kind of questioning— this kind of interrogating, really. He sighs deeply, the sound of which reverberates throughout the room. 

“I cannot be a Jedi if I do not practice what they teach,” he mutters. “I may not have peace but I mustn’t fail in trying to obtain it. I believe… that connecting myself back to the Force is merely a necessary first step in relieving that pain.” Obi-Wan doesn’t exactly believe this, but he tries to peddle it as if he does— as he would have done in the war. Ahsoka nods slowly, taking in his words. She isn’t satisfied.

“Master, I— I am afraid your judgment may be clouded.” Her voice is hesitant and small. He commends her soundlessly for her honesty. “I know fear is not the Jedi way, but I  _ fear _ what may become of you if you keep trying to fix what cannot be fixed.”

“What do you mean, Ahsoka?” She shifts her stance to stare at the blinds, light reflecting in lines against her body.

“I don’t think your pain can be resolved. Just as mine cannot.” His brows furrow and his lips part. It is a jarringly accurate assessment given her viewpoint. Obi-Wan doesn’t like it, not one bit.

“Yet, you have not disconnected yourself from the Force. What is the difference between us?”

“I do not mean for you to take offense, Master. I just— I just don’t know how to tell you this.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “Pain… suffering, that is the way of  _ Sith _ . Your future is unclear in the Unifying Force just as it is in the Living. I worry what your path’s uncertainty may mean.” Obi-Wan scratches at the hair growing past the nape of his neck. 

“Uncertainty does not mean darkness. Anakin was the chosen one and his path was marked with darkness and uncertainty. He died a Jedi, Ahsoka... as you and I will. You have no reason to fret.” She smiles briefly, a mirthless chuckle arising from her chest.

“You still think of me as a Jedi, then?” Her defeated expression leads him to believe she does not think of herself as one. It’s frankly horrifying for Obi-Wan to think. 

“Like your master, Padawan, you are a far greater Jedi than I.” Her disposition changes; he has said the wrong thing.

“With all due respect, Master, I do not believe that’s true.” Obi-Wan closes his eyes and reaches out into the Force. “You are one of the best teachers I could ever have. You taught Anakin all that you know. You have wisdom and strength beyond even Master Yoda or Master Windu.” _And yet, I cannot adhere to the most basic Jedi principles_ , Obi-Wan finishes in his head. Wracked with emotion, that which he cannot control, his face flinches briefly at the very notion.

“Believe what you will, Ahsoka. I do not wish to dispel your fantastical imaginings of me.” She frowns, growing increasingly more irritated by the minute. Perhaps, he should have offered her the illusion of self-confidence rather than the truth of self-loathing. 

“Why do you look down on yourself? I do not understand.” Obi-Wan is stricken with how to answer that. The truth thus far has proven unfavorable for her and lying has never tamed her curiosity in the past. Whatever way he answers will be disputed as false, no matter the validity he holds it in. Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes tightly and focuses on the encompassing light of all living things surrounding him.

“I do not see things in the same light as you do. Nothing is simple but, for a long time, I held to the belief it was. Letting go of that way of thinking will better my judgment moving forward.”

“Your judgment is clouded, even now,” she snaps. “Anakin’s future was clouded and he died. Master, what if your future is clouded because you will die too? Don’t you care about that?” His body stills and his eyes open. The Force leaves him briskly. Stare blank and void of any feeling at all, he meets Ahsoka’s angry gaze.

“No, I am not afraid of death. I have waited a long time to die, Ahsoka.” 

“Obi-Wan,” she mutters. “I don’t think that should be acceptable to you.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think, we are Jedi. Our lives will always be traded in the pursuit of peace. That is our destiny.” Her face contorts in confusion.

“Then it was Anakin’s destiny to die? I know you don’t believe that.”

_ “How would you feel if I turned into a major disappointment?” _

“I— I don’t—” His face grows hot and his chest tightens. Obi-Wan can feel his limbs weaken as he stands. He doesn’t want to collapse, not in front of her— not like he had with Maul. “Please stop.” Ahsoka turns to him, beside herself with disbelief.

“Why don’t you care about yourself, Master?” The air in his lungs freezes.

_ “It’s not the same.” _

_ “It’s precisely the same. You took me under your wing and practically raised me. I’m your Padawan, just like Ahsoka was mine…” _

“Anakin would want you to live.”

“Ahsoka—”

_ “How well would you sleep knowing I failed you?” _

_ “Not very well, I imagine…” _

“No, Master. You have a death wish and I want to know why.”

“Why indeed,” he rasps. 

_ “Luckily, that isn’t true and never will be.” _

“I failed him,” Obi-Wan whispers. His legs give out beneath his weight. He pits his fall to the chair, where he manages to hold himself up briefly. Ahsoka rushes to his side and assists him into the chair. “All I have done is fail, Ahsoka.” She doesn’t seem to understand.

“What do you mean? Are you alright? Are you ill?”

“Everyone I have ever—” He refrains from finishing. Obi-Wan cannot utter those words— not here, not ever. All he has ever done is make attachments. He loved his master and lost him; he loved his Padawan and lost him. He thought he loved the Duchess and lost her too. Each one, a tether to the world and a reason to keep going. After all, what is the point of being a Jedi without the drive to bring peace to the galaxy? Anakin believed in that purpose and, to some extent, Obi-Wan had too. 

His death created a shroud of discontent with that purpose and gave him clarity in the consequences of his meaningless actions. A war that he could have prevented and soldiers and men who could have been saved lost to pointless battles and poor strategy. He cannot take that back. He cannot reconcile with himself or the dead. Obi-Wan refuses to accept the illusion any longer but maintaining the act for his fellow Jedi and Ahsoka is a difficult necessity.

“Everyone I have ever known, I have lost. It is a burden I must carry and I— it was easier when Anakin was here.”

“Everything was easier when Anakin was here,” she mutters softly. “But he’s gone, Master. You must accept that, as I have.”

“That is precisely what I am trying to do, Ahsoka. It’s just— I’m still working through it.” There is a long stretch of time in which she does not say a word. Her breath is held close and her eyes appear blank. Obi-Wan, in all his time of knowing her, has never seen this expression before. It’s utterly terrifying.

“Where were you, Master?” she asks suddenly. “Who has done this to you?” Obi-Wan is taken aback by the question. It’s her Jedi sensibilities keeping her from seeing what should be clear; it is not black and white. He could blame his problems on Maul and yet he continues to see him, running from the Council and Anakin and the wasted years in the pursuit of respite. 

“What?”

“I asked all around the Temple and no one— not even the Council— knew where you were. Wherever you were, you did not want them to know. Where were you?”

“That’s— that’s none of your business.” He tries to get up but his body keeps him in the chair. 

“Master, I think it’s best if you stay seated.” He smiles and laughs, small and shallow. There is no humor in it. Obi-Wan just wants to be away from here, away from her and this place of haunting memories. 

“I wish— I wish you didn’t remind me of him.” It’s the most honest thing he has said to her in quite some time. Ahsoka’s lips part and her face sours.

“I care for you, Obi-Wan. It hurts to see you like this.”

“Oh Ahsoka, I’ve always been this way. You just couldn’t see it.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“This— my life, our way of life, is of pain and loss. We are destined for infinite sadness then death. There is little in between besides those who sweeten the journey.” The bitterness in his voice echoes across his quarters. “I tried to pretend my purpose was greater than that. I had to train Anakin— I had to make him a Jedi as Qui-Gon asked of me. I had to believe he was the Chosen One. That was all I had. Now, I have nothing at all. My purpose has been fulfilled and if I were to venture further, Ahsoka, I believe my duties as a Jedi have been too.”

“I don’t believe that,” she says simply. “A Jedi is not by what the code dictates but by what they do for people— for innocents. Whatever his death has done to you, Obi-Wan, you must see past it. This fog will not last forever. Your future will become clear once you find peace.”

“Peace?” he muses. “I have never had peace with myself.”

“That simply isn’t true. What about—”

“Stop this. I don’t want to hear it any longer.”

“Then, who has done this?” she asks again. “Who has placed these doubts in your head?” Irritation fawns through him. Her line of questioning has become stale and repetitive. 

“I have,” he murmurs. Frustrated, she sighs and crosses her arms.

“Where have you been going?”

“Anywhere else. To get away from his shadow, Padawan. He haunts me.” Briefly, he can see the glassiness of her eyes and the tears that threaten to roll down her cheeks. That isn’t what she wanted to hear.

“You are seeing visions?”

“No, memories.”

“What kind of memories?” The tears fall down Ahsoka’s face.

“Moments I regret. Moments where I wish I could have changed my words or my meaning.”

“I wish I could help you, Master.”

“As do I,” says Obi-Wan.

“You are not yourself.”

“I know.” Ahsoka turns her back to him, wiping away tears from her face with her forearm. He cannot stand to see her cry and the guilt catches up to him, ensnaring his mind with that same regret. Pointlessly, he tries to mend what cannot be undone. “I will try… for you.”

“I hope that is true,” she speaks. Her feet pause at the doorway. “Goodbye, Master. I will see you again, soon.”

“Goodbye, little one.” Briefly, Obi-Wan can hear her smile. “Tell Rex I said hello.” Ahsoka nods as the door slides up and she disappears when it shuts. He still cannot move. The emptiness and dust surrounding him eat at him. Obi-Wan lost control, had said too much. It’s too late to take it back or to reassure Ahsoka that she shouldn’t be worried. His pitiful attempt to reconcile before she left doesn’t change that. His sentiments were true. But what was the cost of such sentiment? Ahsoka is sure to check up on him now. Or maybe this has steered her further away. He cannot know for sure. All he knows is he doesn’t want to remain here with his memories or the pressing Jedi flocking around him. Obi-Wan finds the strength to stand and strides steadfast from his quarters.

* * *

“Kenobi… back for more?”

“Quiet, Maul. I need you to listen.”

He grimaces but nods. The barrier behind him reignites, casting them in red light. Obi-Wan doesn’t lower his hood as he normally would. He is still questioning how and why he came here. He knows intuitively but the logic doesn’t align with his intuition. It never has. Obi-Wan sits down in the middle of the cell and crosses his legs. Maul watches curiously but does not approach him. Shakily, he begins to recount his encounter with Ahsoka. His words fill the empty room with something it has never had before: safety. Obi-Wan, despite himself, feels safe here in the cell of his enemy. But, really, how could he still be his enemy? No, that is himself. Maul takes in his words without comment, staring intently at him. When Obi-Wan finishes, his stare does not lose its ferocity. It’s strange how the darkness that turned his eyes appears so inviting. Almost like…

“You’re coming to me for your personal dilemmas now?” Maul asks.

“I do not recall a time I have come here for anything else,” Obi-Wan remarks. Maul simply hums and sits down across from him. His mechanical legs scrape against the hard flooring unpleasantly. The reminder of their shared past is strangely euphoric. As if the journey to sit across from one another civilly had to begin with violence; bitterly, he wonders if it will end with violence too. 

“You do not want to live,” he states. To Obi-Wan’s bewilderment, it’s not a question. Maul treats it as fact. 

“Not precisely.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to keep something without ever losing it.”

“That’s not very Jedi of you, Kenobi.”

“No… it isn’t.”

“Your desire turned many Jedi of old to the Sith way. Their desire for the ones they cared for to live forever eventually drove them to the dark side. Learning how to cheat death is what my master’s master achieved before he… died.”

“Murdered, I presume?” Maul nods stiffly. Obi-Wan licks his lips and pulls coherence from his racing thoughts. “I do not wish to cheat death. I simply wished I died alongside them rather than— than whatever this is.”

“Insightful as always, Kenobi. Why couldn’t you say that to Lady Tano?”

“I am… unsure.” Obi-Wan meets Maul’s gaze. It’s a moment he can’t seem to grasp. His eyes, concentration intense, pierce Obi-Wan. It feels as if he is the only thing that has ever existed— the focal point of the cell and the center point of the galaxy. The color of his irises, a result of his years of catering to the dark side, no longer feel like a threat. Stripped beyond that, there is something peculiar about the way he narrows his focus. Something tender in the way he is the only thing that matters. But, that is surely ridiculous… right? He must be imagining things, seeing beyond what is really there. Then it occurs to him that even that conclusion is preposterous. Why would Obi-Wan Kenobi want to see that? Why would he want to see that from Maul? 

“I believe I have the answer you seek,” Maul says quietly. “But, I do not think you’re ready to hear it.” The silence gives Obi-Wan what Maul and Ahsoka never could: clarity. 

“You’re right,” Obi-Wan replies, voice harsh. “I’m not.” He swallows dryly. “Unfortunately, I’ve already deduced it for myself.” He isn’t ready to accept it— of course, he never will be— but he is ready to acknowledge it. 

Obi-Wan is ready to admit he is friends with a Sith.


End file.
